


A Hairy Situation

by WantsUnicorns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack, Curses, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Hair Loss, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Muggle Monday, Pity Party, Self-Pity, Snark, Snarky Pansy, badass Pansy, cursed Draco, emo Draco, snarky Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 05:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5955883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WantsUnicorns/pseuds/WantsUnicorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of Draco's hair disappears when he gets cursed. Nobody seems to know who is responsible and how to reverse it and it only takes so long before Draco's facade begins to crack.</p><p>Or the fic I wrote because I needed an excuse to have Draco wear an ugly beanie made by Dobby.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hairy Situation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [This_Bloody_Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Bloody_Cat/gifts).



> I started writing this almost a year ago after a conversation with the lovely This_Bloody_Cat, so this fic is for her.
> 
> I know I'm not usually known for writing crack fic. I have no idea how it happened.

Draco felt like a complete fool. For some reason Dobby had seen fit to gift him with one of his knitted atrocities in front of Harry, which meant that now he could not take it off. Granted they were currently on their way to St Mungo's because some punks had seen fit to make all of his hair disappear and nothing he or Harry had done had made it grow back. Even his eyebrows were gone for Merlin's sake. Still, Draco had caught his reflection in the window and he was not sure the beanie was any better than no hair at all. If it had not been snowing quite so much and if his new lack of hair had not been so spell resistant that even simple weather protection spells were not working, Draco might have managed to wriggle out of it, but the mixture of Harry's worried expression, Hermione's earnest joy and Dobby's hopeful smile - that little shit - had totally done him in. He might have lived with the Dark Lord for several weeks, but Harry's disappointed face was something he was powerless against. Plus, it tended to be around for days and now that Draco had actually chosen to live with Harry it meant he would get to see it every day and probably dream about it too.

Draco held tight to Harry's waist from where he was sitting right behind him on the broom, pressing his cold face into the warmth of his back, while holding down the...beanie with his other hand. Draco couldn’t even think it without shuddering. Harry hopefully thought it was due to the cold and not the truth.

This was seriously the worst, sure, Draco had experienced his fair share of hexes and curses directed at him and had inflicted quite a few in revenge, or if he was completely honest, in jest, but never had he faced a curse quite like this. He had not told Harry, but even his pubic hair was gone, he had checked the day it happened and somehow that had freaked him out even more than his lack of eyelashes or eyebrows had when he had first seen his reflection in a hastily conjured mirror. 

It wasn’t even that his hair had fallen out, it had just gone, which was somehow even more unnerving. If he had at least had to brush it off the floor it might have made more sense. And don’t get him started on Harry’s fondness for teaching Draco to do things “the Muggle way”. Who the fuck even came up with “Muggle Mondays” and used that shit unironically? Harry Potter apparently and for some reason Draco didn’t have the heart to tell him ‘no’. Draco not saying no to the things he hated, like hand-washing dishes, like spending time with Harry’s friends – some of whom still resented him for besmirching their immaculate saviour – and moments like these, when wearing a scratchy, vomit-coloured, hand-knitted hat that smelled funny, were still better than telling Harry “no”.

If only his friends knew who had debauched whom in their relationship, Draco was sure they would still find a way to blame Harry’s _corruption_ all on Draco. Come to think of it, that pumpkin pie he had eaten at the Weasley’s and where Molly forced them to take leftovers home for later, had tasted funny. Maybe… but no, Molly and Draco’s mother were having tea at least once a week, catching up on gossip and exchanging recipes and Merlin knew what. It wasn’t like Draco hadn’t tried to eavesdrop now and then, if he just _happened_ to be at the Manor when Molly was over, but his mother wasn’t a Slytherin for nothing, whatever went on when the Weasley and Malfoy matriarchs met was apparently to remain a secret for the foreseeable future.

"Don't worry, we're almost there," Harry shouted from the front and Draco squeezed him in thanks. And that right there was why Draco couldn’t say no. Harry cared and was willing to put up with almost anything from and for the people he loved and inspired the same in them. While Ron and Draco would probably never be friends, both of them always put in an effort to at least politely discuss the weather and if they couldn’t agree on that, Molly’s fabulous cooking was usually the safest topic that they could agree on. All the same, Draco was glad that it had been Hermione and not Ron who had been witness to his plight. The mocking he would receive otherwise would commence soon enough and considering Ron’s incredible stamina for such things would probably be regaled every family Christmas until Draco’s hair disappeared due to natural reasons. He wasn’t really looking forward to it. Better to keep a low profile, if necessary, forever.

Hermione wasn’t so bad either. They had discovered that they both had a craving for art and classical music that neither of their partners shared and out of that a true friendship had sprung. They still tended to disagree on certain topics – the quality of Dobby’s knitting skills for one – but manning the battlements against Harry and Ron’s mulish disregard of anything even remotely related to culture had moulded their friendship from one born of necessity into one that was based on genuine fondness. And not just because Hermione had introduced him to that Japanese feminist artist who had first photographed and then 3D-printed her Vagina in larger than life size, so she could turn it into the top of a canoe. Although it had helped. Who knew what Draco had been missing out on by disregard Muggle modern art? Now, that was the kind of Muggle Monday he could get behind.

Draco was just contemplating if he should invoke Wizarding Wednesday where Harry was forbidden from even enjoying his Muggle coffee in the morning – which would serve him right – when the broom touched down just outside of St Mungo’s. Shortly after Hermione arrived on her own broom. As much as he loved her now, Draco had no idea why she had to come, especially since three days of intense research on her part had not made a bloody bit of difference in getting rid of the curse.

They got ushered into a waiting room because, while Harry might have been able to get them preferential treatment, he chose not to. This, Draco didn’t understand. It was bad enough that he was suffering from some bastardised version of premature male pattern baldness that affected all of him, being seen out and about wearing this atrocity was worse. Draco would have almost rather been bald and cold.

When he saw who was heading towards them, he almost wished that he had refused the beanie. It was the last person he wanted to see him like this. Lying skank, she had told him she’d had a hot date tonight and here she was descending on him and his poor head like a luminescent vulture. Draco could almost physically feel the moment she noticed “it”. Draco tried to hide behind Harry and in his opinion nobody could hold that against him.

Harry’s fingers dug painfully into Draco’s lower arm and it took all his strength to turn away from _her_ and soothingly run his fingers over the back of Harry’s hand. Harry and Draco were pretty evenly matched in not properly getting along with each others’ friends. Essentially, Pansy was to Harry what Ron was to Draco, the snarling gatekeeper that faked niceties, but would tear you apart if you put even so much as a toe out of line. The biggest surprise to Draco had come when Harry and Millicent had somehow – he would probably never find out how they’d ended up talking about it – discovered their equal and passionate love of knitting. If Draco had had to guess he would have thought that Harry would have asked Molly for advice, but he had a niggling thought that Molly would have knitted for Harry but not taught him how to knit himself. 

Well, who was he to complain about Muggle Monday, at least Harry had made an exception today, leaving the knitting circle early and actually agreeing on flying – apparition would probably have been too much like using magic, while flying was the wizarding equivalent of taking the tube. If only Dobby hadn’t been there.

It was too late now, with Pansy standing before him, reaching for his forearm and tearing him away from Harry.

“You’re coming with me.”

“But, Harry…” Draco tried beseechingly.

“Honey, believe me, you don’t want him to hear what I have to say.”

Draco capitulated after sending one last beseeching look in Harry’s direction and let his friend drag him away into the first of many examination rooms. 

Pansy deposited him on a stretcher and then just stood there, silently staring down at him. After what felt like an eternity, she lifted one of her perfectly manicured fingernails that – as close as they were to Draco’s face – had something claw-like about them and pointed at Draco’s headdress.

“What is that?”

“A hat?” Draco replied, his answer sounding like a question.

“No, Draco, that is not a hat. If a hat saw whatever that is squatting on your scalp, it would commit hatticide.” 

Draco lowered his head in shame, exposing the beanie even more to Pansy’s gaze.

“Please don’t tell me you’re just indulging Potter’s knitting fetish by wearing this,” she said.

“No,” Draco lied, again imagining the look on Harry’s face if he so much as hinted at something that might hurt Dobby’s feelings.

“Then why are you wearing this…?” She seemed to be searching for an appropriate word but was at a loss for words in the face of “it”.

“For science?” Draco hedged.

Pansy gave him a look that made him shrink away. What was it with him and being affected by other people’s facial expressions, Malfoys should be above this, surely. He was the master of the Malfoy eyebrow for fuck’s sake; he should be able to handle other people’s looks. Still he felt himself whither under the force of her glare. He reached for the beanie, he had come here for a reason after all.

Pansy inhaled sharply at the sight in front of her. The time it took her to gather her wits and come over, her white coat flapping open, told Draco just how bad it really was. He might be willing to admit that sometimes he tended to exaggerate when it came to his own appearance and some people might call him a drama queen but in this case he felt justified. He could feel her warm, dry hand brush across his exposed scalp.

“Merlin, smooth as a baby’s backside,” she said admiringly.

Pansy took out her wand and began poking at his head, while an autoquill was taking notes of the results. Draco felt like some kind of animal in one of those weird Muggle cosmetic and drug testing facilities Hermione had told him about. It wasn’t a very nice feeling. He only just suppressed the urge to use “it” to hide from Pansy’s intense interest.

“Are you about finished, you hag?” he asked.

“Darling, I know you’re grumpy, because Harry will be able to use the shiny backside of your head in the future to shave, but remember whom you’re talking to. Do you really want to go there?”

For a moment Draco considered it, at least then he would not feel so powerless. Then he remembered what had happened the last time he had a serious disagreement with Pansy. He’d had to move his mother’s portrait to hide the damage and he still wasn’t entirely sure that they hadn’t caused structural damage. He deflated.

“Fine.”

Pansy hummed, looking at the notes the quill had taken and then prodded the area where Draco’s eyebrows should have been.

“Are you missing hair in any other areas?”

Draco twisted the beanie in his hands and refused to look at her.

“I’m assuming your silence means yes,” she went on matter-of-factly. “So, is all of it gone?”

Draco nodded, feeling warmth creep up his cheeks as he remembered the high-pitched scream he had let out, when he had discovered just how much of his hair had disappeared.

“Right.”

She made a note on her parchment and tutted, before she turned her attention back to Draco’s face.

“I’m afraid this is not a curse I’ve ever encountered before. I’ve dealt with partial hair loss or even hair replacements before. And believe me, Draco, be glad you didn’t get hit with the Medusa Curse, genital hair snakes are not as fun as they sound. Anyway, I’m afraid we’ll have to do more tests. I’d ask for a sample of your hair, but as that is impossible, I took several samples of your magical aura and will look for anomalies there.”

“So, you can’t help me?”

Draco wanted to beg her, wanted to shout, to get her to help him, but their friendship wasn’t like that. What looked to others like cold distain was based on fierce loyalty and deep affection. The fact that she was honest with him and didn’t hold back was what told him how serious this was, but also spoke of how much she cared.

“I’m afraid not. Not yet anyway. I’m assuming you had Granger do research for you as well?”

“She’s called Weasley now, you know that.”

“That’s not the point. So did you?”

“Yes, she couldn’t find anything to help either. Why do you think I would wear this thing otherwise?”

“Because I know you’re a sucker for Potter’s happy face and would never want to hurt his precious Gryffindor feelings.”

Draco sighed, she did have a point.

“What do you think I should do?”

“As much as it pains me, I think you should put that knitted thing back on and go back home. I’ll come by with one of my assistants after my shift and then we’ll look around your home and see if anything there might have triggered it. You might be a Black, but that house has some issues and I’m pretty sure there are still some dark artefacts left hidden somewhere. Did you do anything like clean out the attic or rearrange some furniture lately?”

“No, we did that months ago. We haven’t finished going through all the storage spaces, there just never seems to be enough time, but we haven’t really done anything with them lately and as far as I know, neither has Harry or Dobby.”

“Alright, for now remember to always carry some kind of tissue for your eyes. Eyebrows are necessary to stop the sweat dropping into your eyes and depending on what you get up to, it could get seriously painful.”

“Malfoys don’t perspire!” Draco said with conviction.

“Oh please, I’ve seen you before your Transfiguration OWL. You sweated like Longbottom in front of a potion.”

“Let’s change the subject. Do you think this curse might just wear off?” Please, Merlin, Draco thought, please make her say yes.

“Sorry, Draco but there is no chance of that. Everything I’ve found out so far, points to this being permanent unless we find the object that was responsible, if there is one, or get the original caster to reverse it.”

Draco felt himself crumble, this was worse than what he had anticipated.

“I know this is not what you wanted to hear,” she said regretfully.

Draco made as if to brush his fingers through his hair and then as if only remembering the impossibility stopped, his hand hanging awkwardly in mid air. He let it drop, frustration obvious in his tone as he spoke

“You can say that again, this is the opposite of helpful. What the hell should I do now? How am I supposed to go to work like this? I can’t just keep wearing some kind of stupid elf hat inside the house at all times. It’s not like I work for that jolly, fat man Harry likes to see around the house during Christmas so much.”

“Have you tried a wig?”

“Please, what haven’t I tried. They disappear or disintegrate within minutes of touching my head. Not even drying spells work.”

Draco remembered one of those desperate moments the day before.

_“Are you wearing a fake beard made of bees?”_

_“No…?!”_

_Oh who was he kidding._

_“Maybe.”_

_“Why? And how did you even get them to do that? I didn’t know you were some kind of bee whisperer, I’ve seen you abandon pie when they came too close.”_

_“That was a wasp and it was only that one time,” Draco protested. He paused, not sure how to explain the train of thought that had ultimately brought this predicament._

_“They were swarming…” Draco hesitated again, “it made sense at the time, I swear.”_

_The buzzing was getting louder and the bees made it feel like his whole chin was vibrating. Strangely enough it wasn’t so different to using Harry’s electric razor on Muggle Mondays._

Pansy raised a questioning eyebrow at the expression that must have shown on his face. Draco envied her for a moment. Oh how he wished he could still do that. One only knew how much one relied on facial hair for expressions when it was gone.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know.”

***

None of Pansy’s tests brought any results. Draco hadn’t been cursed by an object and while he had been affected by magic, nobody seemed to be able to pinpoint what kind of magic exactly was responsible. It could have been Cornish Pixies for all he knew. Even Hermione seemed stumped and it annoyed her more than it did him.

It had been weeks since Draco had been to work. He was lucky to be mostly self-employed, his mood had deteriorated so much that Pansy had taken to delegating tasks to his employees in his stead.

It had been raining all day and it didn’t look like it was about to stop any time soon. Draco had pretty much given up on ever finding help and was sitting by the window, staring out into the grey distance and feeling sorry for himself. He was wearing one of Harry’s jumpers and was hiding his shame under the large and warm hood. The tea that Harry had placed on the window sill before him that morning had gone cold a long time ago. Footsteps were approaching his location, he didn’t turn around.

“What’s going on”

“Go away, I’m feeling emo.”

“You need to stop reading those old magazines that Dudley’s kid keeps forgetting to take home, Draco, they mess with your head. We’ll find a solution.”

“And what if we don’t, Harry? What then? Am I supposed to stay inside this depressing house forever? I can’t do this anymore. You don’t even look at me the way you used to anymore. Maybe you’re better off, if I just leave.”

“What the hell are you even talking about, Draco? I love you. I don’t mind that you changed the way you did, because I love who you are and not just some idea purely based on looks. I love how grumpy you are when we do Muggle Monday and I know that you only indulge me, because you know it matters to me.”

“How can you not care about this?” Draco said and angrily brushed back the hood of the jumper. “How can this not make a difference to how you feel? I’m a freak and I will always be a freak according to Pansy’s results. How high are the chances that whoever hated me enough to curse me will willingly remove the spell? I’m not like you, Harry. People don’t immediately like me, people hear my last name and they immediately think about how to hit me without it being obvious enough for me to press charges.”

“It’s not that I don’t care, I care about how it affects you, but I’ve always thought of us as a forever kind of thing, where at some point we’ll be so old and wrinkly that the only people who’ll say they are attracted to us will be each other.”

“Excuse me, when I grow old, I will age with dignity, have you seen the portraits of my ancestors?”

“So not the point right now.”

“What is your point then, Harry? Enlighten me please.”

“My point is, I love you, no matter what. I love you cranky and I love you happy. I’m not waiting for some excuse to leave you and I just wish you knew that too. I’m in it for the long run and nothing could convince me otherwise. I mean I’ve even…” Harry fell silent.

Draco perked up.

“What have you even?”

Harry flushed and looked at the floor, before he straightened up, clearly the brave Gryffindor, facing problems head on. He crouched down until he was on eyelevel with Draco and took both his hands.

“I have even asked your mother for permission and I’ve bought a ring.”

Draco stared at Harry in disbelief. 

“Do you honestly want me to believe that you were planning to ask me to marry you?”

“Not ‘were’ Draco, am, if you would only let me. Actually…” 

Harry got up and quickly left the room only to return a moment later with a small box in his hands. He went down on one knee in front of Draco.

“Draco Malfoy, would you do me the honour?”

Draco was stunned for a moment, so stunned in fact that he missed the rest of Harry’s proposal. He was fairly certain though that Harry would have sounded earnest and endearing, a bit like a fortune cookie. Harry was looking at him with wide eyes and only the slight tremble in his hands gave him away. Draco realised it was his turn to say something. So he did, only he didn’t use words at all.

***

“You realise we can’t possibly tell our family and friends this was how we got engaged.”

“Don’t you mean, your family and friends?”

“Not really, if Molly knows, my mother knows and I know that woman, Harry, if she thinks you didn’t do this right, she might just withdraw her permission and while we don’t necessarily need it, I’d rather not suffer another curse on top of this one, or have you get a matching one.”

“That’s actually sound reasoning.”

Harry kissed him then, stroking lazily along Draco’s naked skin.

“I’ll leave the creation of the lore entirely to you then.”

“You keep on making good choices, Potter.” Draco smirked, “I’m glad you can finally appreciate my genius.”

***

Draco was nervous. He had accepted the fact that he would most likely never have hair again and would have to rely on a combination of hats and hoods for the rest of his life. He was only lucky that wizarding hats hadn’t gone out of fashion. With the way his luck was going it was only a matter of time. He stood in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, tugging on his tuxedo as if to fix its already perfect fit. A hand slapped his away.

“Stop that,” Pansy said, “you’ll crease the fabric.”

“Do you think…?”

“No, I don’t think it’s possible to have a smaller ceremony.”

“But…”

“He’s the Saviour of the Wizarding World, of course it’s front page news, it would be if it was a small ceremony.”

“People will talk.”

“They always do, Darling. It’s not like it bothered you before.”

“It does now.”

Pansy did something she had never done before, she hugged him.

“It will all be ok, you’ll see.”

“How are you so sure? Do you know something I don’t?”

“I’m sure I know many things you don’t, but in this case I just know how much Potter loves you and that’s what makes me so sure.”

There was a pop and suddenly a flushed Harry appeared in front of them.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked.

Harry turned towards them, which was when Draco realised that Harry the reason Harry was flushed was because he was furious.

“What’s going on?”

“You won’t believe…” Harry fell silent. “No, you know what, I was going to get you, but I’m going to take care of this right here, right now.”

Draco wouldn’t admit it, but he was both turned on and scared. Had he done something wrong? Was Harry here to call off the wedding?

“Dobby!” Harry shouted. “Come here this instant.”

There was another pop, this one quieter than Harry’s arrival, who still seemed to do everything with a bit of fanfare, without even being aware of it.

“Yes, Sir, Harry Potter, is something wrong?”

“Don’t you dare Sir me! Why did you do this?”

“Do what?”

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about.”

Draco had never seen Harry so angry and despite the fact that he was about to get married to Harry, he finally realised that Harry would stick up for him no matter what, even to the people he loved.

“If Sir would only explain.”

“Fine, why did you curse Draco?”

“What?” Pansy and Draco asked simultaneously.

“Draco, I’m so sorry, Dobby used elf-magic to make your hair disappear. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. Well actually, it was Hermione who did.”

“But why, I don’t understand.” Draco was at a loss.

“Mr. Malfoy should not be with Harry Potter. Harry Potter deserves someone better.”

Harry raised his hand, requesting silence before anyone else could speak. He pinched the bridge of his nose and then pushed his glasses back up.

“Dobby, for the last time, you promised not to try and save my life ever again, remember?”

“I did, but…”

“No buts, Dobby. I know you don’t understand why Draco is the one for me, but I do. If there is one thing you should know it’s that he’s not like his father when it comes to house elves.”

“But he doesn’t like me.”

“He does.”

“If I could just…” Draco interrupted. All eyes turned to him. “Dobby, it’s true that I don’t like you.” Dobby tried to interrupt turning to Harry as if to say “I told you so”. “No, let me finish. It’s not because you’re a house elf, or because you’ve truly known Harry for longer than I have. It’s because you always try to embarrass me in front of him, as if you’re trying to wake him from a dream. You always made me feel like I could never be good enough for him and let me tell you, I’m very aware of that on my own. I don’t need your help for that.”

Harry looked shocked at his words and that more than anything else made Draco continue.

“So while I always talk about how we Malfoys are above everyone because of our heritage and status, I’m very aware that Harry could do so much better than me. The thing is, I’ve realised something important. I love him,” he smiled at Harry before continuing, “and for some reason he loves me back and wants to marry me. Who am I do question this kind of good fortune if I know it’s the only shot at true happiness that I have. So no, Dobby, I don’t like you, but I’ve put up with you and your scheming for years, because I care more about him and what he wants than you seem to.”

Silence greeted these words. Draco straightened and reached out for Harry’s hand.

“Shall we?”

“But don’t you mind?” Harry asked.

“I don’t, Harry, I’m getting married to you today, nothing else matters and nobody is going to taint that, not even your house elf hating me or whatever the reporters will put on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow morning.”

Draco received a chaste kiss for that and squeezed Harry’s hands in return. He was about to step forward, when Harry let go of his hand and turned around.

“No, you know what, I don’t accept that. Dobby, undo what you did!”

Dobby seemed to sulk and Draco didn’t expect anything to happen.

“And no, punishing yourself for what you did is **not** an option to get out of this. You will lift the curse right now.”

“Fine.”

Dobby snapped his fingers petulantly before disappearing into thin air.

“You’d better tell them we’ll be late Potter,” Pansy said, as she dragged Draco up the stairs and towards his room.

Harry grinned and Draco only shrugged in a “what can you do” sort of way.

As it happened nobody had anything bad to say about their ceremony or wedding picture and if they did, neither Draco nor Harry found out, because nobody they knew subscribed to the Daily Prophet anymore and the article in the Quibbler was as expected bizarre but also strangely uplifting.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this. I hope you enjoyed it anyway. And remember do not wear a swarm of bees as a beard unless you were trained to. Also sounding a bit like a fortune cookie, I find, just makes one more relatable. XD
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated. <3 Thanks for stopping by.


End file.
